Vincent Called (And He Wants His Ear Back)
by also known as LuLu
Summary: "This story isn't funny." "YES IT IS." "No it's not." "YES IT IS." "No it's not." "It is, and if you disagree again, Atti will scronk you." (Decide for yourself, but never argue with Atti.)


_Disclaimer: _I do not own Newsies (Disney), Joel Cairo (Dashiel Hammett), the Queen of England (whoever it was at that time, I don't know for sure, she belongs to herself), Vincent Van Gogh (art history), or Mary Sue (like THE MANGO, no one wants Mary Sue).   
  
_Author's Notes:_ This is for Wu/Stage and her mistaken emoticon, which inspired this fanfic, and to the Slashy Ladies as well. Thank you to Ann, Stage, and Vinyl, for assuring me that this IS funny (even though I STILL think it isn't O.o), and Vinyl again, for beta-ing and giving me some great suggestions (the "leik" section is all hers. I could never come up with such demented brilliance. BECAUSE SHE IS A LOSER).  
  
_Warnings:_ General weird/rambling/wacky humor, mild slash references, slight Mary Sue bashing  
  


Vincent Called (And He Wants His Ear Back)  
by LuLu, for the 'Ladies  


  
It was a beautiful, sunny, breezy morning in New York, after a night of torrential, foreboding rainstorms where mysterious(ly perfect) females emerged in a PG-rated manner. The sunlight was nice because it drove them back into hiding. Specs was in front of the mirror, studying his reflection.  
  
"Something don't look right," he was telling his good friend (not lover, because that's icky) Dutchy.  
  
"Open your eyes a little larger," the blond suggested. "Maybe you'll see it then."  
  
He did so.  
  
"O_Oq"  
  
"I think I've got it," Dutchy said, scratching his chin. "It's an extra ear."  
  
"An extra ear?" Specs tugged at it. "Well I'll be damned."  
  
"You've got an extra ear, Specs?" asked Mush, popping up behind the pair.  
  
"Looks like it."  
  
"That's cool!" Mush said. "Almost as cool as when Spot had that sausage belt…"  
  
"That was a sausage?" blinked Blink (AHAHAHAHAH. BEHOLD THE PUN.) "I just thought he grew a really big -"  
  
Kid Blink was cut off by the sudden appearance of a messenger owl, which was obviously lost in the wrong fandom. He took the owl's message and read it aloud.  
  
"'We, the almighty content advisors, would like to remind you that this is a PG-rated fanfic and all phallic references are prohibited.' Screw that, this is a PG-13 now," he said, scribbling numbers after the rating. "I will not be denied!"  
  
"We need a good ass-ass-in-a-tion…" came another voice suddenly.  
  
"What?" asked Skittery.  
  
"Wasn't me," Blink said.  
  
"We need a good ass-ass-in-a-tion…"  
  
"Is that…" began Bumlets.  
  
"…Cowboy?" finished Racetrack.  
  
"Let's follow the noise for a random plot escapade!" giggled Story Cameo Character JOEL CAIRO, the FLAMING HOMOSEXUAL of The Maltese Falcon, waving a perfumed handkerchief.  
  
They followed the noise for a random plot escapade, which was Jack standing in front of a closet mirror (ahaha! CLOSET!! GET IT???), practicing his Sexy Cowboy Pelvic Thrust™.  
  
"We need a good ass-ass-in-a-tion…" THRUST. "We need a good ass-ass-in-a-tion…" THRUST.  
  
"…" Everyone said together.  
  
"I think I'm going to go sell," Pie Eater mumbled.  
  
"Yeah," agreed everyone else.  
  
"Coming, Dutchy?" asked Specs as he headed towards the door with the other newsies, for they for some weird reason did a lot of things together. Like shower.  
  
"Yeah, just hold on a second, okay?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I LOVE YOU, SPECS!" Dutchy cried into his extra ear.  
  
"What?" Specs asked. "Did you say something, Dutchy?"  
  
"Nothing important," he mumbled. 'Specs…I WILL make you mine,' he thought. He looked over at Joel Cairo the Flaming Levantine, who giggled and waved his handkerchief.   
  
"You remind me of Wilmer," he winked.  
  
"Uh…I have to go…" he said, and he fled the scene, looking frantically for his darling unrequited (READ ANN'S "UNREQUITED". BUT NOT RIGHT NOW, FINISH THIS STORY FIRST, LEAVE A REVIEW, AND THEN GO READ IT, STARE IN AWE, AND LEAVE A REVIEW) Specs.  
  
  
  
"EXTRA EXTRA!" Specs bellowed from his boner (err, corner. Stupid typos!). "VINYL IS A LOSER!"  
  
It was a really, really bad selling day. Really, really bad. This was not an understatement. Everyone already knew that Vinyl was a loser, so why would they buy a paper to reinforce the obvious? Jeez, they needed to come up with better headlines.   
  
'Wait!' he thought, suddenly having an idea. 'I suddenly have an idea!'  
  
"EXTRA, EXTRA!" he bellowed again. "I HAVE A THIRD EAR!!" (Yet surprisingly, he was not from Brooklyn.)  
  
Specs sold three hundred and nineteen point five papers in twenty minutes without breaking a sweat (well, he did sweat a little, but that's glandular and not really any of my business). When he got back to the Lodging House, the other newsies were so suspicious that they stripped him down and gave him a full cavity search, fearing that perhaps he was Mary Sue in disguise. But it all turned out okay. Dutchy especially liked the stripping part. But Vinyl was still a loser (READ VINYL'S "RESIDENT SEX GOD". BUT NOT RIGHT NOW, FINISH THIS STORY FIRST, LEAVE A REVIEW, AND THEN GO READ ANN'S "UNREQUITED", LEAVE A REVIEW, AND THEN READ VINYL'S STORY AND WHEN YOU RECOVER FROM FALLING OUT OF YOUR CHAIR LAUGHING, LEAVE A REVIEW), and that's really no surprise.  
  
  
Then LuLu had to go trim the hedges, so she lost some valuable writing time. In this space, we will let the two newsies of the reader's choice bang each other like a screen door in a hurricane (Did you guys ever hear the story behind that one? It happened to Crutchy when he was in downstate Florida for some convention. He got caught in a hurricane with a screen door, and he said it was painful. Having that door bang against him turned him black and blue. What, did you think I was going to say that he and some guy did each other during a hurricane? That story is such BS. He made the whole thing up. Crutchy isn't some boyslut. God, this story is so unfunny. I hate trimming hedges. NEXT SCENE.)  
  
  
(PRE-SCENE INTERLUDE)  
  
  
(LEIK OMG MY FREIND WAS LEIK I HATE NEWSSIES AND I WAS LEIK NOOOP AND SHE WAS SLIKE YAHH!!11 NAD WAT A BITCH!11!!)  
  
  
(BACK TO STORYYYYY)  
  
  
That night, the newsies were at Irving Hall (because let's face it, they don't go anywhere else besides Irving Hall, Brooklyn, and Tibby's, and the last two aren't as interesting as Irving Hall, and Brooklyn is too far away for this story [aka, I'm too lazy to make them walk].). Unfortunately, Swifty was sick with the flu, and Snoddy was 'nursing him back to health,' so to speak, so there was no performance from him. (READ NEFFIE'S "CHINA DOLL", EVEN THOUGH I JUST SPOILED THE ENDING. BUT NOT RIGHT NOW, FINISH THIS STORY FIRST, LEAVE A REVIEW, AND THEN GO READ ANN'S "UNREQUITED", LEAVE A REVIEW, AND THEN READ VINYL'S "RESIDENT SEX GOD", LEAVE A REVIEW, AND THEN READ NEFFIE'S STORY AND LEAVE A REVIEW.) Instead, Medda remedied the loss by making it an open stage night (AHAHA! PUN PART DEUX!) (I think you get the hint by now. READ SLASHY LADY FICTION!), which was also known by the name "Vaudeville Idol" (could this story get any more unfunny?)  
  
"Oh, and the greatest love of all~" sang Joe from Say Anything (SEE THIS MOVIE.), though he really couldn't sing (which is why it was funny in the movie, but the humor is lost here, as they have yet to figure out how to produce fanfiction in surround sound. Or THX, for that matter.). Snipeshooter threw Race's cigar butts at him ('cause he was always stealing them!! hur hur hur), and his hair lit on fire, which is kind of funny, but give me a break, I'm fumbling for humor here (like Dutchy fumbles with Specs's suspenders…::winkwinknudgeLOOKSTAGEI'MWRITINGSPECS/DUTCHYBUTJACK/SPOTISSTILLWAYBETTERnudgewinkwink::). Anyway, Joe ran offstage screaming and crying like a little girl. Medda whirled onstage.  
  
"Vell, vasn't that vonderful?" she asked in her wonderfully fake Swedish accent. 'As 'vonderful' as a Jack/David…' she added in her mind. "NEXT!!"  
  
"Ooh, me, me!" giggled Joel Cairo. He was promptly ignored.  
  
"DUTCHY, GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!" roared Medda for plot purposes. He obliged.  
  
"WOO!! DUTCHYYYYYYYY!!!" cheered the newsies. Dutchy hopped onstage and broke into a chorus of "Play That Funky Music White Boy." It drove the crowd wild (except Spot, because he went out to womanize with some drag queens, but he'd be back in time to see Cowboy's thrusting act, which was set to the DiVinyl's "I Touch Myself." How did they have all these songs in 1899 anyway? Interesting question to ponder I'm digressing again. ANYWHO! Where were we?).  
  
"We were here, here!!" exclaimed Dutchy, rushing offstage and into Specs's arms. Specs cocked an eyebrow. "SEXY SPECSY!!" he cried into the boy's third ear.  
  
"Dutchy, what are you doing?" he asked.  
  
"Erm…nothing…"  
  
"Okay," he replied, fixing his suspenders for no apparent reason but to make this story a few words longer.  
  
Medda buried her face in her hands. This (the show and they story) was a disaster. Then the phone rang. She answered it. She listened to the person on the other end. And then she hung up.  
  
"Specs!" she exclaimed. "That was the Queen of England! She's coming here to knight you because of your third ear!!"  
  
"Cool!" all the newsies exclaimed at once. If Spot were there, he would have grumbled that *he* had never been knighted for his sausage belt (err, you know what I mean).  
  
"When's she coming?" asked David. In the style of Joel Cairo, he was ignored.  
  
"When's she coming?" asked Jack, a little irritated that his pelvic-thrusting act had been interrupted (but Spot wasn't there yet, so that part was okay).  
  
"I thought you'd never ask!" replied mEdda (I love my shift key. ::smacks it with a two-by-four::). A fanfare of trumpets bellowed throughout the theater. "There she is right now!"  
  
The doors of Irving Hall burst open, the red carpet was unrolled, and the QUEEN OF ENGLAND processed in (I'm getting impatient with finishing this because VINYL WANTS IT LIKE SHE WANTS JACk/SPOT ACTION, so for that reason you don't get a rich, vivid description, such as "The ornate doors of the theater blew open as if by the force of a majestic wind. A carpet, red as a rose, flowed through the center aisle between the plush seats, and the Queen herself, in her jeweled, golden glory, stepped in, walking as if she were carried by the air." So there.)  
  
"Where is the amazing boy with three ears?" she warbled.  
  
Specs stepped forward. "That's me, ma'am."  
  
"Kneel, young man." He did. Dutchy wished that, well, you know, but that's not the point. The Queen raised her sword (the metal one. I don't think she had a fleshy one. Please, no one sue me for libel, I was just trying to be clear in statement) and tapped his right shoulder. "I now knight you, Sexy Specsy Specsy, in the name of-" She raised the sword again to tap the left shoulder, but as the sword lowered, it -- GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -- sliced off his extra ear!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
"Oh no!" gasped the newsies.  
  
"Oh yes!" exclaimed the Queen of England, scooping up the ear before anyone else could.  
  
"That's not the Queen of England!" Mush exclaimed, for once not being the initially slow one.   
  
"Then who is she??" demanded Crutchy with an extra question mark.  
  
"I AMMMMMMMMM--" she pulled the Queen of England mask off of her head "-- THE GHOST OF VINCENT VAN GOGH!!"  
  
"The ghost of Vincent Van Gogh!" gasped the newsies (again.).  
  
"I have come to reclaim my ear!!" he bellowed, placing the lone ear back where it had been before. "BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHA!!!!!!!!!" he laughed maniacally (or something. I don't know if Vincent knew HOW to be maniac. Ah well, whatever. He's maniac beyond the grave, so THERE.) and fled the theater.  
  
"Well," sniffled Specs (aww, don't be sad, sexy Specy! Dutchy will make you feel better if you GET A CLUE!!), "I guess that's the end of that."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Boots.  
  
"I have a question," said Snoddy.  
  
"What is it?" asked Skittery.  
  
"Vincent Van Gogh isn't dead at this point in history, and he hasn't even chopped his ear off yet. What the hell is he doing in this story?"  
  
The newsies shrugged, not knowing that in reality, Vincent Van Gogh had died in 1890. Obviously, they had poor history and math skills (even David!). But we won't quibble over the subject, because rewriting it and correcting everyone would take too much time, so we'll let them be not wrong even though you know they really are. "Because LuLu is insane?"  
  
"I won't argue with that," admitted Snoddy (fine, I'll just run away crying when I'm done with this and write a SNODDY/SARAH to torture you, Snoddy. So THERE.).  
  
"Now what happens?" asked Racetrack, fearing the wrath of LuLu (as he should).  
  
"I'm sure something will come up," offered Bumlets.  
  
For twenty minutes, they waited. Then the ghost of Dashiel Hammett, taking a cue from the ghost of Vincent Van Gogh, emerged and smacked LuLu upside the head for her portrayal of Joel Cairo as a flaming homosexual. First, she said "Ow." Then she argued, saying that he would have been flaming anyway if it hadn't been 1929, forcing Hammett to tone down the homosexual connotations. Hammett concurred, and now Joel Cairo is getting his own sitcom this fall.  
  
And then Spot came back from carousing with ZE MENWOMEN, and everyone rejoiced. Then the following happened:  
  
Spot and Jack had lots of wild manseXXX. And then Specs got a clue, so he and Dutchy did likewise. David got no hot wild manseXXX, because NO ONE LIKES HIM (and Denton was out of town, so that option was nixed).  
  
To please all those who thought that ending sucked, LuLu had to come up with a satisfactory ending for the story. And it is as follows:  
  
Meanwhile, in a galaxy far far away, someone was recreating Mary Sue to hook up with Racetrack, not knowing that in actuality, Racetrack is her brother.   
  
But that's a story for another day. In the meantime, here's the Cliff Notes version:  
  
_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" howled Racetrack, shoving Mary Sue off of him. But she only re-glomped him.  
  
"But, but, Racey!!" she whimpered, pawing at him. "Don't you love me? I'M PERFECT!"  
  
"PERFECTLY ANNOYING, YOU LITTLE INCESTOUS HO!" he bellowed. "No wonder Jack hooked up with Sarah in the movie!"  
  
Finally squirming out of her grasp, he ran screaming into the sunset.  
_  
(if you're not happy with that ending, well, you're in trouble, because you're not getting another one :P)  
  
(Slashy Ladies: ::CAMEO:: ::LOOK, THEY GET A CAMEO!!! YAY:: Hey, cut me a break, this is a PG-13 fanfic, Ladies, there's only so much I can do)  
  


**YE OLDE ENDE  
  
**  


  
  



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